


Snippets of Introspection

by Callsign_Spin



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Teenage Dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callsign_Spin/pseuds/Callsign_Spin
Summary: These are the 'deleted scenes', if you will, for my other work, Moments of Introspection. They don't quite belong in that work for a number reasons (shorter length, inconsistencies, and/or the fact that I'm not 100% happy with the way they turned out, to name a few), but they also have some merit in their own right, so I'm posting them here. They're not as extensively edited as my other work, so my apologies in advance for any typos or especially cringe-worthy material.Mostly just a few teenagers pining for each other and discovering that feelings are weird. Prepare to alternate between face palming and experiencing teeth-rotting sweetness.
Relationships: Lucy Carlyle & Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. A River and a Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place late in book two, as Lucy and Lockwood make their escape after stealing the bone glass from the Winkman auction.

As Lockwood and Lucy floated down the Thames, coughing up water and catching their breath, it dawned on Lockwood that what they’d just done was actually crazy. They’d gone careening off the old warehouse roof, hand in hand, praying that the Thames would be deep enough to keep them both from meeting an untimely demise. 

In short, it had been _awesome_. Awesome and exhausting.

They’d have to start swimming for the shore soon. Their walk to the station would be a lot longer if they couldn’t reach the shore at approximately the right point, and they were already bushed as it was. For now, Lockwood was content to drift and reassure himself that they were, in fact, alive.

Beside him. Lucy was breathing as hard as he was. He turned his head a little to look at her, and a glimmer of silver near her neck caught his eye. His heart fluttered. She was still wearing the necklace he’d given her earlier. Lockwood gazed at Lucy, heart filled with a tender fondness (this was impressive considering how much adrenaline had just flooded his system). Despite the cold water flowing around them, he felt warm. Impulsively, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Blessedly, she let him hold it. 

In that tender moment, something finally clicked into place for Lockwood. It felt so right, like he’d always known it but had only just realized that he did. Surely, out of everyone in the world, Lucy should be the one to hear his story. Hadn’t she earned that? Time and time again, she’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Lockwood in the face of danger. She might not know everything about his past, but she surely knew his character. She knew all his glaring faults, had endured all his ridiculous stunts. And yet she’d stayed by his side through everything. Wasn’t that incredible? 

He’d thought about showing her and George Jess’ room more times than he could count, but somehow it had never seemed to be the right time. He’d never felt ready. It had been something he’d felt he should do out of an obligation to his employees, a long-overdue reason for the one serious but unexplained rule he’d put in place to keep them safe. He knew he should explain things before curiosity drove one or both of them to break the rule, but he’d been dreading doing it nonetheless. And now? Now he found he _wanted_ to tell them about what had happened in that room. That realization hit him like a brick. It just wasn’t a feeling he’d ever expected to have.

Furthermore, Lockwood was tired of keeping so many secrets. Bone tired, really. Concealing things about his past was going to come back to bite him eventually. It was an inevitability that he hadn’t wanted to accept, but like all such things, it was true nonetheless. This entire Bickerstaff affair had been an object lesson in how secrets could tear people apart and lead them to do terrible things. They could change people for the worse. He didn’t want that to happen to their company. Lucy and George were like family to him.

It was time. He’d explain Jess’ room to George and Lucy as soon as they wrapped this case up. It’d be hard, but he was ready.

Lockwood was pulled back to the present when Lucy pointed out that they had better start swimming. He reluctantly released Lucy’s hand and they both started paddling their way across the river. Lockwood figured they’d catch up to George at Portland Row, whereupon he’d explain how he’d concluded that Joplin had been the one who’d nicked Bickerstaff’s corpse and attacked Carver. Then they’d rest up for a few hours and deliver everything neatly tied up to Barnes in the morning. Another case closed. They should get some great press for solving the whole debacle, too. 

Lockwood smiled contentedly (to the extent that he could without swallowing more river water, anyway). Between their excellent work on this case and the peace of his new resolution, things were looking up.


	2. The 3 AM Client

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place early-ish in book four when Lucy returns to Portland Row after being attacked in the course of her search for the Skull.

Lockwood rubbed his bleary eyes as he trudged down the stairs. He’d been tempted to ignore the loud ringing coming from outside and snuggle deeper into his warm bed, but he’d forced himself to get up anyway. Whoever had rung the bell, they must be serious about being seen tonight; they’d had some desperate people show up on their doorstep before, but Lockwood wasn’t sure anyone had ever made such a racket. You never knew what to expect from a 3 AM client, but they were almost never boring. Lockwood tried to focus on the probability of them getting an interesting new case rather than his exhaustion.

He fumbled around in the darkness for the crystal skull lamp on the entryway table and flipped it on. He hesitated, then grabbed a spare rapier from the umbrella rack. _Just in case_ , he thought. He unlatched the door and pulled it open, and was caught momentarily off-guard by the figure he found standing in front of him.

Lucy Carlyle was standing on his doorstep, the very last person Lockwood had expected to see there. The Guppy case they’d just done together had gone well, and Lockwood had left optimistic that Lucy might be persuaded to join them on future cases, but this 3 AM visit was completely unprecedented.

“Lucy?” Lockwood asked, dumbstruck. Then he started to notice details. To say Lucy didn’t look so good would have been an understatement; her clothes were battered and she looked like death warmed over. Lockwood suddenly wasn’t tired anymore. His vision sharpened and his head cleared in a surge of adrenaline. Lucy faintly said his name, and then the next second she was buckling. Lockwood’s energy and reflexes returned just in time; he wrapped his arm around her and managed to keep her from falling over. 

“Lucy, what’s happened? You’re shaking. Come on. Come on inside.” As Lockwood escorted Lucy to the kitchen, still bearing part of her weight, he thought he saw her eyes watering. Lockwood’s heart ached. Lucy was as tough as they came. Whatever had brought her here tonight, it wouldn’t be a trifling matter.

“Here you are, Luce.” Lockwood pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s happened?” Lucy sunk into the chair but didn’t answer. In fact, it alarmed Lockwood to realize just how out of it she looked. It was then that he noticed Lucy’s bloodied forearm. Her whole sleeve was stained red and part of it was stuck to her arm. It didn’t look to be bleeding anymore, but it must have been a bad injury indeed to make such a mess. Lockwood’s blood ran cold, and before he could stop himself, he was asking Lucy, “What is this?”

Her voice was quiet, almost casual as she replied. “It’s nothing. Just a cut.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. _Nothing my foot_ , thought Lockwood.

She didn’t offer any further explanation, so Lockwood knelt by her and pulled back her sleeve, exposing the wound below. It wasn’t terribly deep, but it ran nearly the length of her entire forearm. The cut’s edges were regular and smooth; it had obviously been made by a knife. 

Lockwood felt sympathetic pain course through his body in a shudder. A fierce sense of protectiveness he hadn’t felt before ignited within him. He wanted to run outside and find out who’d done this; to make sure they would never hurt Lucy again. Cold, determined fire coursed through his veins.

Lockwood looked up into Lucy’s eyes, deadly serious. “A knife made this, Lucy. Who—“ He’d started to ask who’d attacked her but cut himself off. He still wanted to track the culprit down and teach them a lesson, but the sight of the tiredness in Lucy’s eyes pulled him back down to earth. _What am I thinking?_ Lockwood thought. He was being an idiot. He’d get nowhere by chasing after the culprits; they’d be long gone by now anyway. He _could_ do some good for Lucy right here, right now, though. Cleaning and dressing her wound would be a good place to start; it wouldn’t do to have it get infected. And Lucy was clearly shaken. Well, some comforting tea and biscuits would help with that. 

Changing tack, Lockwood rose. “No—explanations can wait. I’ll get George; we can clean this, fix you up.” Lockwood met Lucy’s eyes again, this time trying to put as much reassurance as possible into the contact. “You don’t have to worry anymore; you’re safe here.” 

Lucy seemed relieved at Lockwood’s change of course. He thought she might be breathing a little easier. “Thank you. I know. That’s why I came.”

“You want tea?” Asking was more a formality than anything else; Lockwood was almost certain the answer would be yes. Even if she refused, after the horrible night Lucy had clearly had, Lockwood would make her take a mug anyway. 

“Yes please. In a bit. But I can make it—“ 

Lockwood cut her off, telling her to sit tight, and disappeared to fetch George and the first aid kit. On his way, he thought ruefully that this wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned Lucy returning to 35 Portland Row; he’d rather hoped it might be under happier circumstances. That said, he resolved to make the most of the opportunity. For now, Lucy was home. Maybe he could remind her what she’d lost when she left Lockwood & Co. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the catalyst for her coming back to stay for good.


End file.
